Englande Wil Falle
by BlackWolf2Dragoon
Summary: Russia attacked Britain at it's core, the Tower of London. The legend comes true and along with it, Britain's destruction. Along with the destruction, rose a king from the ashes to bring England back. Romanceless, slight OOC, based on King Arthur.
1. Prologue

So, yeah fanfiction is still being a git in regards to the breakup line. Fanfiction, you thought about fixing that yet? ¬¬

So, Hetalia fans! This is my second fanfic for this fandom, now this was more requested by xwolfxdogx rather than this being dedicated to her, but you should all thank her that this exists! It went like this;

Me: So I got this idea of King Arthur being reborn and making statues come to life...

Megan: OMG that would be epic o.o

Me: ...really?

Megan: Of course! 8DDD

Me: ...OK!

So here we are. I'm making this into a real story, not sure how long it's going to be, probably not TOO long because I write such long chapters (except this chapter, because it's a flipping prologue.)

Oh and updates, for those who don't know me, are very irregular and there is no set schedual for my uploading. This is a hobby and a stepping stone to becoming an author, I don't get paid so I update when I like and when I can. All messages "Y U NO UPDATE" and the like **WILL BE IGNORED. **Just a heads up.

So, enjoy my writings of fantasy and the like!

**EDIT: 08/08/2011; Roman numerals were never my strong point, it was meant to be King George IV (4th) not King George VI (6th). Oh and also excuse my bad Old English, hardly anybody is good at writing Old English anymore xD;  
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><p><span>Prologue<span>

All Hail King Arthur!

War wasn't an uncommon thing to the world, not when it came to the _Homo sapiens. _It wasn't just because they couldn't get along; it wasn't always as trivial as that. Most of the time, it simply was because neither side could agree, and therefore a fight broke out, turning into a full scale war. Sometimes it was caused because of political protest, such as in the west, that was a common cause of war. Always political. Whilst in the eastern part of the world, it was often of a religious debate. The central, it was for power and desperation.

So, what was it when the western and the central ended up fighting, using eastern allies? That was a big question. Something Alfred wasn't sure about, even. Human, he was not, merely acting as a leader for his country, for he was the personification for it. He _was _the country, any cries of pain the country felt when it was being attacked, he would cry it out to let the people know. A country couldn't speak, but with an ally willing to be possessed? It could give messages, promises and threats if need be.

America didn't like getting into wars that didn't concern itself, not after World War II. Not to mention it drained the piggy bank, but this was an emergency. For a while, the personification of England had gone missing. By a while, Alfred meant thousands of years. It was quite possible there never had been one, but Francis, the personification of France, had told him differently. There _was _a personification of Britain out there somewhere, or England anyway, back in the old days it was simply England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland were independent with their own personifications, but all those personifications had disappeared. Francis told him when, England had disappeared around 500AD, Wales in the 13th century, Scotland in the 17th century whilst Ireland had about the same time, though a different personification, known as the Republic of Ireland, reappeared soon around the time the IRA were at large. Those other personifications were never seen again and the country had been suffering since, suffering in silence.

So Britain was left defenceless, or more so than the other countries around the world. They did have leaders that ran the country pretty well, but nothing like the personification of the country would've done. Alfred had to wonder how the personification to Britain would look. It was a proud country, a strong one too despite the lack of certain things; it was pretty open too as well as cynical. Not a lot like his own country, America, which was all manner of things. Big, small, vast, abandoned, unbelievably active to completely devoid of anything for miles. It had nearly all the types of terrains thinkable, long deserts, snowy vast lands, thick jungles and simple grasslands.

And Alfred was near the same. In terms of mood and ideas. But he was young, whilst adventurous and various, with fifty states to look after; he had to seem positive somehow. He was rarely serious, unless the situation really called for it, but it was easier for him to act happy and a bit of a dweeb if it made it easier to care for his country.

A bullet narrowly missed his head, taking him by surprise by the fact that he wasn't paying attention during a full scale battleground. What a stupid thing to do!

"Ah, sir!" A fellow soldier called, having spotted that a bullet barely missed. "Are you alright?"

Alfred lifted his helmet up slightly, a blast not long ago having shaken the helmet from its usual tight safety grip on his head, keeping his most precious part of his body safe from harm. He looked in the general direction of the soldier that called out; the dust having not settled quite yet, rubble clouded the sky to prevent them aiming properly. The Russians were relentless.

"I'm alright! Keep your guard up!" He had to shout, even though his throat was hoarse for not having a drink in hours. Nobody could drink with the enemy this close and they were rapidly losing ground. They had been pushed back into Trafalgar Square from Covent Gardens, trying in vain to keep the Westminster of London safe, for the Palace was close by, too close for comfort. The Houses of Parliament and all the politically important buildings were all in Westminster Avenue.

Currently, they were using The National Gallery to hide behind. It left the enemy pretty open since the place was built for tourists and not for a battlefield, but the enemy tried to hide behind the no longer working fountains, the water not drained, not the fountain no longer sprouting forth that healthy water it once did.

Alfred wasn't sure how it came to this, but he was sure that Ivan had something to do with this. Ivan was Russia's personification, though it had lost much of its lands from what it once was, Russia was still huge, so didn't it make sense when Britain refused to let Russia act as Britain's own personification? That's probably what angered Alfred the most, the fact that Ivan thought he could simply declare himself as Britain's personification, not when the legend still held true that he was out there, somewhere, just waiting to wake up. Alfred was sure; he had heard the legends, after all. There were loads of legends to Britain. The legend of the Welsh Dragon in Wales, the Loch Ness monster in Scotland, the leprechauns of Ireland and England? Well, the Tower of London was under the heaviest security because of the legend. The legend stated that England would fall should the last remaining raven fly from the Tower of London. (1) Because of this, the ravens had been clipped of their wings and were unable to fly. There was even a spare in the back, should that happen.

There was one legend in particular that caught Alfred's attention. The legend of King Arthur. They said he was a true King of England, who had fought against the ancient Saxons and fought purely for the safety of England, even from the French. Though, the French still envy him, even as they were against him.

It was said that he had a group of readily abled knights, known as the Knights of the Round Table. Whether that was true or not, Alfred wasn't sure, neither was anyone else, or if it was just made up because it made the man sound even greater. But there was always this bit that troubled everyone;

_Whence Englande will falle, the real King of Englande wil rise like the Ffenix. _

It wasn't very specific, how did it mean by "fall"? and it took work to realise that "Ffenix" was in fact phoenix. It was murmured through the war in Britain, that when England will fall, King Arthur will rise from the grave. Nobody knew if that was true or not, much like the Raven legend, but nobody took chances. Nobody knew what King Arthur really was, human or devil, but the legends were reason enough to fear him. He was the act of brilliance, what if he were to turn against his own country? It would always be possible.

The Russians were closing in; their tank was merciless in sending out rockets towards them. If there was any country strong enough to hinder the Americans, it was Russia. (2) And they were starting to win.

When his hope was already wane enough, Alfred head through his speaker something that was going through to every speaker that hadn't broken. The worst news possible.

"Everyone! The Russians have broken into the Tower of London! The ravens are gone! Repeat, the ravens are gone!"

As soon as that was finished, the ground shook. An earthquake measuring nine point one on the Richter scale. In a place like Britain, it should've been impossible, for there were no plates anywhere near Britain, but it was happening regardless. Neither American nor Russian were used to earthquakes, let alone one of this size, and many ducked for cover, or ran for their lives. The buildings around began to tumble, the tall ones collapsed on themselves, whilst the National Gallery started to crumble all around, before it, too, collapsed on itself.

In fear, Alfred hid beside the pillar holding the glass bottle with a ship inside, only to realise his mistake when the bottle rolled to the side, straight down towards him. With a quick roll to the side, he just about missed getting lacerated by the glass pieces that smashed on the floor; the ship slumped to the side, with no water to support it. There was a horrible ground tearing sound. Looking back towards where the Russian army was, Alfred saw why and why the screaming had amplified.

The ground itself was opening up, before the lion statues and the huge statue of Nelson, a giant chasm was opening up, swallowing many of the Russian tanks and Russian and Americans alike between the two fountains, which miraculously began to spout again, not of water, as designed, but fire. How, Alfred couldn't fathom, but he knew one thing. He had to get out of there before the ground swallowed him too, like in some of those bad apocalypse movies he used to watch, like _2012 _and _Day After Tomorrow. _But this was the real thing, it was really happening right now, in front of his eyes.

"Men! What's happening there? Someone talk to me!" The speaker went off in a panic. There was an earthquake there too, but nothing like what was happening here, if Alfred's ears were telling him correctly. Because it seemed like the epicentre was right in front of him, opening up into a chasm of fire.

But something was rising from the flames. From his height, Alfred could just about see it. He barely noticed that the earthquake was waning; an earthquake that had destroyed the city in barely fifteen seconds, when he saw that it wasn't merely something that was rising from the flames, but a some_one. _Alfred couldn't believe it. Was it a devil? Lucifer? Some servant of the Grim Reaper? Alfred would believe anything about now. But he realised that the legend rung true, the ravens had left the tower of London and England had fallen.

It took barely fifteen seconds for England to fall, chasms opened up, breaking the land, mountains burst forth as active volcanos, which most of Wales was and was completely obliterated, along with Scotland. Cities were eaten up by the land, collapsing in on themselves whilst the change from Ireland to Northern Ireland became literal, as the land split along the border and Northern Ireland was left to float away, to eventually crash into Scotland or Wales. Britain had fallen faster than any nuclear weapon ever could've done, all done by nature herself. It was nothing short of an apocalypse come true for Britain and its inhabitants. The Russians hadn't won, nature had.

Alfred kept watching as the figure rose from Hell itself, being lifted by a platform and now Alfred could see that the person was on horseback. It was hard to see, as the clouds that appeared out of nowhere covered the sun; they were thick and black, ready to let loose of thick rain to add misery to the destruction around Britain, like Zeus wanted a piece of the action himself.

The figure from hell was wearing red, the old red British army uniform used back in the days of the British Empire, Alfred remembered. That was strange, that uniform hadn't been used in three hundred years. The person didn't seem as remarkable as the calamity that had been caused to the country had indicated the person should be. Annoyingly, the person had his back turned towards Alfred, so he couldn't see the person's face. He could see the British Empire uniform stood true and the person had ash blond hair. He seemed relatively short, but the white stallion clashed with that and gave the man upon the horse a look of grace and pride. The platform that raised the man from the earth stopped so the horse was able to jump from the platform without troubles, but the horse didn't move. The horse was built like a true horse of war should be; pure white with armour fit for a king.

The earthquake stopped completely once the platform stopped. Russians and Americans alike came from their shelter, the ones that lived through the earthquake and from getting sucked into the chasm, that is. They all looked up towards the single figure upon the platform, who stood tall with pride, like he ruled the place, he was the most important person there, he held himself like he was king.

And with a loud voice, he spoke; "What ho! Whom dares to rule my kingdom?"

Nobody replied, nobody spoke and nothing moved, even the wind stayed silent for his speech and power over them was something inhuman.

The person grew angry, as his horse stopped its foot as if showing its master's impatience. "Answer me, fiends! Who is it that dares tread upon the land of England?"

A lone Russian soldier, probably quite a high ranking one, managed to answer the powerful inhuman figure who stood above everyone else. "For Russia and Ivan of Russia, we Russians are here to take England from its lost personification." It was a bit heavy with Russian, but it was audible, even for Alfred to hear.

The figure scowled, before he turned to the side, giving Alfred the view he was hoping for, at least for the left side of his face and horse. The man had the most _massive eyebrows ever. _It was hard not to notice them; though Alfred shook his head from thinking such thoughts, now wasn't really the time. The man was still as magnificent as ever, like a prince.

"I believe you did not hear me, _Russian." _The man spat the word out like it was something foul. "For I asked and stated clearly, whom dares tread on _my _kingdom?" Then the man smirked. "As you have clearly shown your worth, which was pardoned as none, and as a threat to _my _lands, I should have to ask you to disembark with haste."

The Russians, hearing that, sobered up from their stumped state and answered angrily. "We shall not!"

The figure grinned with evil intent. "I should have you know, knaves, that I am not a mere annoyance. I will let you know that I was called forth from the depths of my grave from the cry of my country dying. For I am King Arthur, legendary fighter of Britain and killer of Saxony. For I also stand in for my country, for I am the personification of the United Kingdom!" The king turned back to the Russians, facing them full on. "Anyone who dares challenge otherwise will be proven wrong!" Rearing his horse up with a neigh, the king called out; "Arise my fellow knights of stone!"

The earthquake returned, though less fierce than the first one, aftershocks shook the land of its remaining corpses that tried to stand the heavy power of nature. Cars that had blared alarms firstly from the earthquake then silenced grew loud once more. This earthquake was a mere six point eight compared to the first one. However, even for this small earthquake, it shook Britain badly of any foundations that managed to survive the first one. Then it stopped as quickly as it came.

Alfred looked around, having managed to keep his balance and was unable to find any shelter before the shaking had already halted; he shook as he heard the sound of something heavy moving. Looking past the fountains towards the lion statues, he _swore _he saw them move. The lion closest shifted its head to look directly towards a Russian soldier and stopped. What the…?

Then it stood, the foundations underneath the large stone cat broke and fell as rubble. The other cats joined the first, standing from their foundations as living beings that moved on their own.

Alfred couldn't help the yell; "What the hell are those things!"

King Arthur had heard him, for he turned to glance towards Alfred directly. But Arthur seemed to be scrutinizing him, for he must've figured there was a difference between him and the Russians, for he hadn't the same accent as every Russian did. Then he looked away.

"My stone brethren, seize the Russians in how you see fit." King Arthur let the order free and the lions broke into a sprint, tearing and stampeding on the Russians and their tanks, vans and cars. The bullets did no damage, any working tanks that tried to send rockets forth were too slow to aim properly at the fast moving cats as they bit down onto the tanks or swiped at them like they were cotton balls and they were playing. Some exploded, but it left the lions mostly unharmed.

Alfred backed away slowly, only to jump out of his skin as he felt something behind him. Looking up, he realised it was another statue, one of a knight. Wait, hadn't he-?

Turning to look at where the statue of King George IV had been, he saw the space empty. Looking back in front, he saw the very same statue on horseback in front of him, staring at him with an uncertain look.

"What are you?" King George asked.

Alfred stuttered an answer, before he coughed a few times to answer clearly. "Alfred… personification of America."

King George frowned. "Friend or foe?"

What?

"Do you declare yourself a friend to Britain, or a foe to our, for now, anarchy?"

Now Alfred understood. "Friend,"

King George nodded. "Be watching yourself, mate." He said, before he joined in the battle with the lions.

A yell was still heard over the commotion of the battle between the statues that came to life and the Russians. "Let you remember and tell your 'Ivan' that King Arthur has risen again, lest you be conquered, you will leave with quickened haste!"

That was what they did; the remaining Russian's fled the scene in a scurried panic as Arthur watched in glee as his stony servants took down the remaining threats.

Until a booming hiss was head that sounded a cross between a rattle snake and a volcanic eruption going off. Turning quickly, Alfred caught sight of what it was, something deemed in his mind impossible. He saw a TV crew, probably BBC news, driving from what appeared to be a giant cobra made out of fire and stone, slithering at 50mph (3) towards them at a frightening rate. As soon as it caught sight of Arthur, however, it stopped, then brought its top half up into the air, the full length of the snake was as long as a whale, possibly 30 meters (4) and now standing at 15 meters high with its hood wide open to see a strange pattern, possibly an insignia of some kind, whilst the snake was standing full height almost like it was about to-

"Great Scott! Fall back, lest you get rained on!" King Arthur called out quickly and hurriedly galloped his horse off the platform and out into the battle arena to get away from the snake. The second Arthur started running, the snake let loose.

It was a _fucking spitting cobra that spat out lava! _Alfred could barely take it, he ran, but looked back to watch lava spill onto the TV camera crew on the van and he had to endure watching it dissolve before his very eyes, the people with it, and the van careered off its path, the tires melting and the engine touching too much heat, eventually exploding. Even from yards away, Alfred could feel the intense heat that came with the explosion. He turned his head away so he didn't have to watch his men flying through the air in the explosion. His men had taken Arthur's words, but even so, it was too late.

The snake hissed again, a mix of a hiss and spitting lava from a volcano, then snake managed to propel itself into the air, somehow or other, and a nearby passing lion statue was taken prisoner. The snake wrapped itself around the lion statue; it had barely missed hitting Alfred, as he took cover by the fountains, trying his best not to fall into the chasm made by Arthur's return, and he watched the snake squeeze tightly around the lion, the lion roaring out in anger, and to top off the whole load of cluster fuck, the lion exploded into tiny pebbles, many of them hitting Alfred, though it didn't hurt, it would surely leave bruises.

Another lion rushed in aid of its friend, although too late, it sought vengeance and caught the snake by its neck, crushing it within its strong jaws. The snake didn't stand a chance, as it crumbled away like ash, the flames dying and only fragments were left of what was once a nightmare.

"By Jove! So, the ravens had left the nest after all." Alfred heard King Arthur ponder, though rather loudly, either that or he was really close. Alfred ran towards the pillar that held the lions and Nelson and looked around the corner to see Arthur looking up at the sky, still seated on his bleach white stallion. "Sycorax, I know whence those demons came from! Do you coward away, or face me?"

There was a dark laugh, a definite female one from Alfred's hearing, but definitely not a pleasant one. Looking into the sky, his jaw dropped. The sky had turned a livid _black. _A spiral of dark clouds grouped not too far above Arthur and came together to make a figure of a woman, a young woman. She seemed to wear peasants clothing, strangely enough, but yet she was levitating in the sodding air! Everything about her spelt ordinary, but she obviously was far from ordinary, unless people back in ancient times did that for a living. The first thing that came into Alfred's mind when he saw her was; _witch. _

"You've always been a smart man, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur growled. "That name is no longer. I am to be known as Arthur Kirkland. Pendragon ceases to exist."

The woman snorted. "Pendragon sounded so much more heroic."

"I care not about your opinions, Sycorax!" So, that _thing _had a name? "Surrender back to your cage and there will be no unforgiving consequences."

Sycorax laughed, for a full minute, before she calmed down. "You're ridiculous, but you haven't changed in that long nap of yours. Pity, you still look the same."

Arthur almost went red. "Surrender and be merely held in captivity, or fight and die!"

Sycorax smirked. "I wish you luck, _Kirkland." _With a wink, she dissolved again into a cloud of mist, but the sky remained as horrid as before. The clouds were black but no rain fell, but now it had started to let out lightning, giving the look an already more barren feel.

Arthur started swearing, by the sounds of his voice anyway, in a language Alfred couldn't understand but knew what it was, Latin. He swore for about a minute, before King George VI, Alfred had almost forgotten about him, talked up to Arthur and spoke in his ear. Arthur's shoulder's stiffened from Alfred's view and he almost fainted in horror when Arthur's head turned to stare directly at him.

"You!" Alfred's head actually spun hearing that word, holding such anger and frustration in that single word, all of it thrown at him like a wrecking ball. It scared the shit out of him, knowing what Arthur was capable of. "Come!" Alfred had felt like telling the asshole "No way, Jose!" but Arthur was scary enough without being aggravated. Slowly, but surely, a gun still ready in his hand he hadn't used in a long time (or was it a few seconds?), Alfred made his way to Arthur, not stopping until he was two meters away. "State your name."

Alfred stood straight, trying to ease the feeling of fleeing away. "Alfred F. Jones, personification for the United States of America."

Arthur yawned. "Never heard of it."

That blew the ego out of Alfred, whatever ego he had left, had just shrivelled up and died. He tried to retain it, but Arthur was having none of it.

"Never mind that! You stated to my comrade that you declare yourself and your country to be allies with Britain and were fighting against Russia to protect England? Do you declare this true?" Alfred nodded, but Arthur wasn't pleased; "Speak, boy!"

"Yes, sir! I swear on my country!" He near pissed his pants again, goddamn Arthur being so scary.

Arthur nodded, satisfied; "Very well! I ask a request from you and your country. I blame you not for what has happened, as what is written will happen and what is yet written is yet to happen. Now, my request would be for you and your country to help restore this land to what it used to be. Because Sycorax has been released from her prison, I was brought back to quell her in a one on one duel to the death, as the legend foretold by Merlin. Sycorax specialises in necromancy, the art of demonology and controlling them, she has stolen the souls of several dragons that gave her the power she has. If we have a hope of fighting her, we may need to seek assistance with the final dragon surviving. Do you agree to join me in my quest, Alfred F. Jones?"

Alfred's head was spinning from the information. So, find a dragon, bring England back to normal and defeat the evil bitch. That seemed simple enough. Alfred nodded. "Of course, Artie!"

Arthur's eyes blazed in annoyance. "You will state me by my name and that is Arthur Kirkland, _not Artie." _The king snorted but nodded back. "Very well, although I'm not sure of what much use you will be, what with that popgun."

"What? But this is a full on-"

"I don't care what it is, if it cannot fight demons, it's useless." Alfred wanted to fume on about how cool his guns were, but Arthur waved it all away. "We will get a sword for you, or perhaps enchant your bullets, but either way, we have to get you a new weapon." Then Arthur smiled. "But regardless, welcome to the Knights of the Round Table!"

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><p>So? This is the prologue, the next chapters will be double this length, around 7,000 - 9,000 words long each, so you can imagine that updating will be slow, more or less.<p>

The next chapter will have a time skip, not a huge amount but one is needed I'm afraid. Never mind! I hope you enjoyed and I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP!

~Blackie

Footnotes~

(1) This is true! Legend says that if the last raven is to fly from the Tower of London, then England will fall. Because of this, the ravens have had their flight wings clipped off and they even have a spare cage full of ravens! Talk about paranoia!

(2) This, probably isn't so true. This is entirely opinion based and please don't take offense to this (if you're even into Hetalia, you shouldn't be sensitive anyway) but I truly believe that the countries strong enough to take down America, or at least their army, is China, Russia and Europe (if they get lucky). I don't believe America is the world and I will argue if anyone believes so. Everything is made in China, therefore, China is the world ;D

(3) 50mph = approx 80.5kmph

(4) 30 metres = 98 ft


	2. Chapter 1: Helle Ryssen

YAY fanfiction fixed the breakline issue! Thanks so much, love you lots!

Wow I took forever to update. Writers block, killer it is. That and Terraria update 1.1 came out. IT HAS ARTHUR LAND IN IT! Seriously, any Terraria fan will know what I'm talking about. Hallow biome, check it out folks.

Special thanks to Megan here for helping me with this! Couple of monsters made up from her saying a word and my brilliant mind making shit up. Or my drugged mind. I have failed to convince my best friend I am not, in fact, on drugs. This is me sober and not high on caffein. Well, maybe once.

Anyhow, enjoy this latest installment!

**WARNING: Action, a lot of swearing and probably a load of Britishisms. Anyone not knowing much of British cities probably will use Google Maps to at least get a decent idea geographically, if you care. **

**P.s. I suck at writing Alfred and Matthew. And probably Francis, too. WARNINGS WERE GIVEN.  
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><p><span>Helle Ryssen<span>

Several days into having to travel in a new and unknown way to Alfred and he still couldn't get the hang of how they travelled in the olden days. No buses, no cars, no vans, no trains; just horses. It'd been a long time since Alfred had learnt to ride a horse, not since he grew too strong for the British to hold. He didn't fancy riding for such a long time, it hurt on his arse and back, having to sit in certain ways for so long.

Unlike King Arthur, who seemed right at home upon his trusty steed, much to Alfred's distaste. That's what pissed Alfred off, King Kirkland, even after having supposedly been dead for hundreds of years, still sat on a horse as if he had been born to do so, sitting high and mighty with grace and style without a fault. Like a show off. But, from his experience, he learnt that the typically stereotypical British were proud and mighty, at least they used to be. Arthur was still stuck in that old British pride of his, when Britain had to stand tall and mighty or else it'd fall. Alfred was at least glad King Kirkland hadn't been around during the British Empire; otherwise that ego'd be worse.

"Young lad!" He heard Kirkland call. Shaking his head from his jealous whines, he looked questionably at the King. "What does this sign here say?"

That was always amusing to Alfred, the fact that King Kirkland, personification of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, had trouble _reading _of all things.

Alfred took a glance at the sign and told Kirkland, "It says Nottingham, dipwad." Then he yipped as Arthur took off a glove and promptly slapped Alfred with it.

Putting the glove back on, Arthur huffed. "Mind your tongue, boy. I can always cut it off if it becomes a nuisance."

Alfred lost the power of speech for a few moments, before spluttering out; "What! But you can't do that!"

Arthur smirked. "I'm afraid I can, with the land in this state, it's life or death and I'm the King. I can do whatever I please."

_What an egotistical bastard, _thought Alfred, to which he almost grumbled beneath his breath. Arthur sent a questionable look, but Alfred smiled, hoping it was innocent enough to convince the King he said nothing and thought nothing. Arthur didn't seem convinced, but he ignored it anyway.

"So, Nottingham. I recall Merlin mentioning something about a legend of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. We had many soothsayers back in the day, you see. Is this true?"

America had to think for a few moments, before he realised what the King was asking. "Robin Hood? I thought that was a fairy tale, 'bout some dude in green rag stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. A true hero! Like me!"

Arthur snorted. "Unlikely." He smiled slightly for a moment. "Interesting… what other traits does he hold?"

Getting tired of sitting on his horse, Alfred dismounted, before looking past the sign to view what was left of Nottingham. There was very little of Nottingham, what used to be Nottingham. Strangely enough, it was simply a desert, the motorway they were currently on with broken cars in all directions breaking into sand. How was that possible? The only sand Britain ever had was right by the ocean; it never had deserts like his country did. It almost seemed like the sand took over the city of Nottingham like the ocean as vehicles seemed half engulfed in the sand, clinging just outside for its life on the road. It astonished Alfred how a simple unkindness of ravens flying from the coop could cause a country apocalypse, causing it to become unrecognisable.

"It looks deserted…" Alfred commented to himself, feeling almost depressed at looking what was once a bustling city was just now a barren wasteland.

"Not quite." Arthur broke through his (short) thoughts. "A group of survivors were here earlier, I can spot the camps from here."

Alfred looked, but he couldn't see a thing. Grumbling, he took out a pair of binoculars he had remembered to bring with him. He could see that Arthur was right; an abandoned camp lay not too far away, the campfire still smoking from the fire that was put out. "Yeah, they left not long ago. I wonder where they went." Alfred didn't ponder long as He suddenly noticed how close Arthur was to him. He'd assumed that Arthur had stayed back, now he had Arthur's horse knocking its head against Alfred's side.

"What is that strange device?" The King pointed towards the binoculars.

Alfred waved at Arthur's horse, before lifting the binoculars. "These? They're binoculars, genius. Helps you to see far away things." He drops them, batting at Arthur's horse once again, whom seemed very interested in the binoculars. "Call your horse back, dude. It's bugging me."

United Kingdom seemed to flinch slightly, before he scowled. "Idiot! This isn't a mere horse! This is a pure bred Unicorn, a rare and fancy thing, he is!"

America raised an eyebrow and eyed the horse once again. It was a regular, but fancy, stallion. There was no horn upon his head, just like he expected from Unicorns. "It's a normal white horse, dude. Get your head outta the clouds."

"Twat, you just can't see because you don't believe, boy!"

Alfred rolled his eyes; "Whatever, dude. Your nation and country is so weird, I mean a snake made out of fire! Statues that move and you think you ride unicorns!"

Kirkland blinked, before he frowned. "What, no other nation uses magic?"

The personification of America wasn't sure how much more he could take. "Magic!"

"But of course! How else do you explain what you have seen? That snake on fire was nothing but a familiar, a demon if you will. Really, how do you nations survive without the use of magic?"

USA just shook his head; "Magic ain't real, dude."

King Kirkland dismounted from his horse before he sighed. "Maybe, I'm not so surprised, the moment I was awoken; I felt the air was different. There's less magic here than there used to be." Kirkland grabbed the reigns of Alfred's horse as well as his own and walked a few steps away before stopping once again. He brought a hand that wasn't holding the reigns of the horses up and, much to Alfred's disbelief and surprise, the sand began to rise, quickly turning to glass as it did. Without glancing at America, England tied the reigns up to the newly made glass post. It was then that he turned towards Alfred and smirked.

"See, I told you, magic is not dead. Its users have just died and forgotten about it." England then walked up to Alfred, before he suddenly sat down. "We might as well rest, the horses are tired."

Alfred; too shocked to speak a word, just nodded and sat down, following Arthur's example.

They didn't talk for many minutes, just looking up to watch the sky begin to darken. Arthur sighed; clapping his hands and Alfred, once again, watched in amazement as a pile of logs rose from the sand like magic and set alight, bringing warmth and light.

"We have to be careful at night, remember, demons are more active at night." Kirkland explained.

America chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Heh, right, of course!" He shifted Texas upon his nose slightly, looking at the King once again. "But you don't need to worry! The hero is here to keep us safe!"

United Kingdom merely shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

They remained silent a few more moments, before USA broke it; "Hey, dude?"

England turned his head towards Alfred. "What is it?"

"Why are we looking for the Welsh Dragon? It's just a picture on a flag, right?"

Kirkland spluttered slightly, before sitting up dead straight. "What, you haven't heard the stories of the Red Dragon?"

America shook his head. "Should I?"

Arthur huffed a grumpy huff then stood up, bringing from his pocket a piece of paper and a pen. "I'll put a seal of protection down whilst I tell you the story of the Red Dragon." He did so, beginning to draw on the paper some strange symbols and circles. "Wales is a country that runs mainly on farming, as you well know; hence the name given to them is Sheep Shagger (1). For years, many farmers were scared for their sheep, as recently they had been taken and eaten by a dragon. Wales wasn't adapted to fighting against dragons, and so let the dragon take the sheep in return of leaving their villages and their people safe."

"It appeared to work for those years, but one day that changed. Two dragons appeared one day, a green Irish dragon and a white Anglo-Saxon dragon appeared and brought forth flames of earth and light down upon the Welsh villages. The people were unable to do anything but run from their homes and leave the weak behind in the villages to fend for themselves. They all thought it was the end, until a third dragon came. The third dragon was the very same that took a sheep a day to feed itself and leave the villages alone. The Red Dragon of Wales. With a roar, the Red Dragon flew into the sky right towards the two dragons that were setting villages aflame."

"The Red Dragon didn't join the other two dragons in setting villages aflame like what was expected. Instead, the Red Dragon flew and attacked the other two dragons, setting them on fire with its burning breath. The battle raged on in the skies for many minutes, but the victor became obvious quickly enough. Strong for his age, the Red Dragon of Wales turned out the victor, watching as the green and white dragon flew away. To honour the dragon, the Welsh created a flag, a flag with the Red Dragon put upon it with green grass and white sky to show off its victory against the Irish and the Anglo-Saxon. Even today, the Welsh hold the Red Dragon as its symbol, the Welsh name being _Ddraig Coch_ (2)."

"That's why we must find the Red Dragon. The Red Dragon could beat two dragons against it, if we could convince it, we could ask it for help in fighting Sycorax!"

Alfred couldn't believe his ears. There was no way that was a true story. Mexico had its stories, like the Chupacabra which was also a myth. But stories about dragons? Like children stories he just remembered being read out to him, a knight in shining armour fighting off a dragon to save the lovely princess. It was all just a fairytale.

Yet this Arthur Kirkland, supposed personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, believed otherwise.

"If you wanted help in fighting Sycorax, then why the fuck did you send your army away?" America brought up, clearly annoyed and the voice that held his doubt in the Brit.

King Kirkland shook his head. "The people needed more help than I did. Plus, a whole army following us would've hindered us and slowed us down. There was no point in them."

"How the hell are the both of us going to find a freaking dragon in Wales that doesn't exist and fight an evil bitch witch thing that has just… fucked England up? We don't even have a tank!"

Arthur blinked. "I don't know what this tank thing is, but I can assure you that the Red Dragon exists. Honestly, out of all the nations that could've been our ally, you had to be one. Even that frog would've been better, had he survived."

America looked up. "Frog? You mean Francis of France? Eh, he's still kicking, dude."

"What? Wanker! I thought for sure…!" Kirkland shook his head. "Never mind, we should get some sleep if we are to-" He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening slightly. "Do you hear that?"

Confused, Jones listened for a moment, but he could only hear the fire crackling and the horses, as well as himself and Kirkland, breathing. Then he stopped. Was the ground shaking slightly?

"Uh… Arthur King dude… what's going on?" he asked worriedly.

The King shook his head, wondering the same thing and quickly stood up. His insignias put into place to prevent any demon attacks. Was he too late?

He didn't want to find out.

"Quickly! To the horses! Ride back to the road!" With that order out, the King ran for the reigns of the horses, making the glass pole dissolve back into sand in the process and quickly mount back upon his stallion. Alfred did the same in a less majestic manner, simply clambering back onto his horse. Both sped off quickly in a dash away from the camp, moments before the ground at their camp collapsed on itself, a giant dark blur of a shadow shooting from the ground and landing close to them, disappearing back under the sand.

"What is that thing?" Alfred panicked, but kept to the Brit's instruction of reaching the road.

"It's a demon! A regular one, thankfully, but it's still a demon!" Britain managed to shout back to him over the sound of sand collapsing and sinking.

The beast leapt out of the sand once again, getting ready to land on the pair of riders. Luckily for the riders, they both made it to the road and not a moment too soon as the creature slammed onto the tarmac, neither strong nor heavy enough to break through the tarmac. Both the Brit and American turned around on their steeds to get a good look at the beast, only to realise it was too dark. Mumbling a few words, the Brit released a ball of light to the face of the demon.

It was a shark, or what appeared to be a shark. The Shark had no eyes, however, and a sharp pointed snout with only two minor holes belonging to a reptile, perfect for digging. The shark's fins were sharp pointed and appeared to be made of a strange reptilian like skin, similar to a rhino's but not quite. The shark's mouth was wide open, a circular mouth like an octopus' with sharp teeth rather than the beak and a long slippery tongue like a chameleons' suddenly shot out towards the pair.

"Fuck!" They both threw their steeds to run, but they were too late. The tongue clung to Alfred, sticking to him like it was fly glue and Alfred the fly. The tongue pulled him back and America stood no chance of hanging onto his trusty horse. He was quickly pulled off his horse and stuck flying back into the mouth of the demon.

Fortunately, England managed to grab a hold of America's arm quickly with both hands whilst still staying on his own horse. "Hold on, lad!" Arthur cried to the scared nation.

"You better not let go, otherwise I will kill you! Don't let go!" Alfred shouted out in a panic. "This really isn't cool! It's so not cool! I'm too awesome to be eaten by a freaking SHARK!" Jones clung a tight hold with both his hands to Arthur's arm in a death grip. Arthur kept a tight hold on Jones' arm, but steadily noticed that his horse was having trouble pulling. The shark was too strong for even the supposed unicorn to pull.

"Blast it all. Hold tight, boy!" King Kirkland told the bloke and let go with one hand to reach his back for something that didn't appear to be there. Somehow or other, Alfred could no longer explain what seemed real and what wasn't, Arthur brought out a sword, Excalibur if America's history was right, that shined a silver light, a light that came from the sword itself. It was a glorious view, of America wasn't too busy panicking for his life. With determination in his eyes, the eyes of a killer, King Kirkland brought down the sword upon the tongue of the shark.

A loud and high pitched screech escaped from the hurting demon, its tongue spouting out black liquid, like ink, as it bled out and, knowing its advantage was stolen from it, the demon wriggled off the tarmac and back into the sand, where it disappeared like a dolphin in the sea. Arthur quickly put the light orb out, hiding the pair back in darkness to avoid being spotted.

"Are you alright?" Kirkland asked Alfred, assuming that Alfred was lying on the floor hanging onto his arm in a tight grip.

"I might puke…" A grumble was heard. The King shook his head and let go of the American's hand, who also let go of his arm at the same time.

"Try to refrain from throwing up. The smell might bring the shark back again." He grabbed the reigns of his horse again, steadying himself back up since the shark dislodged him slightly. The horse seemed unaffected by the events, unlike Jones' horse, which was nowhere to be seen. "Your horse seems to have legged it." Kirkland commented, then looked up to the sky quickly. A sound was coming from the sky. Surely not a flying demon to deal with now? But he held the seals that kept them hidden from such things, how could it be this time?

"Artie! That's a helicopter! Sounds like a rescue!" He heard Jones explain. He wasn't sure what a helicopter was, but he was sure it was a human creation. He kept watching as a spotlight grew closer and soon shone on them both as soon as the pilot spotted them.

The microphone buzzed loudly for a long moment, the owner at the microphone trying to get it at an appropriate level, before he spoke through it. "_Bonjour~! _Alfred F Jones, what is it that you are doing here, _mon ami?"_

"Hey, Francis!" The American answered back, much to the confusion of Arthur, until he heard the name.

"_Francis? _You mean that frog is here, now?" Kirkland near shouted in anger. "What is that frog doing in my country? I want him gone! Invader! I won't let you conquer England, yet again! Not when we are so weak!"

There was a chuckle, almost a womanly chuckle, before the said 'frog' answered. "Ah, Arthur Pendragon! So nice to hear from you, again!"

The King growled. "I am no longer Pendragon! Pendragon is dead! I'm Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. What is it you are doing here, you French pillock?"

"Such hurtful words! I hear your unkindness flew away?" Francis teased over the microphone, quickly infuriating the blond King.

"Shut up, twit! How can you possibly help? You, who dresses so gay and has women fight his battles (3)?" Alfred thought that rather blunt, though Francis could very well pass off as gay.

"You know the meaning of that word, gay, has changed since then, _mon ami?" _

Kirkland furrowed his eyebrows. "I care not! Watch where you fly that helicopter! You're getting too close to-" Before the King could finish, the same shark swam up from the sand (Arthur and Alfred's eyes having become accustomed to the light from the moon and spotlight) and attacked the chopper. Luckily, the helicopter was high enough to avoid the shark attack.

"_Merde! _What was that?"

Alfred shook his head, deciding to take lead for once, before England and France started arguing again. "France! Fly up and go look for some stragglers! A group of humans left here not long ago, they gotta be close by!"

"_Oui, _I'm on it, _mon ami! _Take care of yourselves in your journey. Do what you must, Arthur Kirkland." Quickly, the spotlight was lifted off the pair of nations and the helicopter slowly drove away.

"And I hope your helicopter crashes into the sand and gets eaten by the Land Shark." Arthur muttered.

"Ouch, that's harsh Artie!" Jones couldn't help but let it out.

Kirkland near snarled. "Don't call me Artie! It's Arthur! Arthur Kirkland!"

A sudden sound that startled the pair of them shut the argument up. It was a ringtone to a mobile, which in all that had been happening for the past few days, Alfred had completely forgotten about. He was surprised it hadn't died.

"What is that? Make it stop, it'll attract beasts!" Arthur seemed to almost panic, much to the amusement and slightly worried America.

"Geez, relax, man, it's just my cell phone." Kirkland blinked, having no idea what a 'cell phone' was, but he was irked regardless of the word (4). Alfred pressed a button on the mobile and brought it to his ear. "Yo! You're speaking to the hero!"

"_Alfred! Finally, I've managed to get a hold of you!"_ Alfred's smile grew to its full size upon hearing who was at the other end of his mobile.

"Mattie! Good to hear from ya, bro!"

King Arthur blanched. He had no idea what was going on, though he assumed it was a device to communicate from far away, such as telepathy. He had no idea who this 'Matty' character was either nor did he know how the American was able to be as happy as he was when Arthur's country had been torn apart by the very thing he set up himself to prevent the Wicked Witch of the West from returning. He knew it was only a matter of time, but now he knew he would do what was right and kill her this time. He didn't make the same mistake twice.

"_I got told by members of your army that you stayed behind in Britain to help? Do you realise the devastation of that country? It's barely recognisable on our satellites anymore." _Arthur could just about hear the voice on the other side, a male clearly, a quiet one too from his tentative voice despite the words.

Alfred's smile slipped slightly, knowing it must've been worse than he thought. "How bad is it?"

"_Very bad. I don't even see Wales anymore; Snowdonia must've turned into an active volcano because all I see is red and black landscape. Northern Ireland's borders between it and Ireland is plain obvious now, it's been made literal as a chasm has formed along the borders, but otherwise Northern Ireland seems to have turned into a forest, for I can't see Belfast any longer. Scotland seems to be submerging into water at a slow pace, I'm not sure how, but the Loch Ness seems to be getting bigger." _

"_England is a strange one, I see a big desert around the boarders of Wales, along Chester, Wrexham and Oswestry that goes as far as Nottingham, as high as Liverpool and then as low as Stafford. Yet, as far north as Liverpool and Sheffield, I see simple grassland, the villages, towns and cities have simply disappeared, as if they never existed. Anything within 20 miles of the sea has been submerged under water, including Portsmouth and Dover. It's all a mess… London, it's just… rubble, there's nothing left."_

Alfred's eyes, of any light they had, just died in that moment. How was Arthur even able to stand if his land was in such a state? He didn't give the old man enough credit, for his land to be barely standing and yet he uses magic. Alfred looked at Arthur, but the Brit was simply smiling, as if telling him not to worry about his well being. He seemed healthy enough, he didn't seem to be wincing or show any signs of weakness. How was he doing this?

"There's gotta be something we can do! I'm a hero! Surely!" Alfred tried to convince his brother who didn't often see the worst side of things, but judging from what Matthew was seeing, it was no wonder.

"_I'm not sure, Alfred. Even France is getting hit by this."_

That was news to both him and Arthur. "Wait, that Frog is affected how by this?"

Matthew was silent for a moment, before he replied again; "_Wait, Alfred, who was that?"_

Alfred chuckled nervously, having forgotten to mention that Artie was right beside him. "Uh, that was Artie-"

"Arthur, you steaming pillock! Arthur Kirkland!" The King quickly shouted, to make sure the person at the other end of the line didn't get the wrong idea.

America stuck a gloved finger into his ear, trying to ease the pain of a shouting deranged magician before he answered Mattie again. "Sorry, bro. It's that personification dude of the UK. He came back when this all started, isn't that awesome? He can do magic and shit!"

"_Magic… what?" _Matthew grew slightly worried for his brother's sanity for a moment.

Arthur huffed. "Honestly, you nations today, not knowing about magic! It was how we ruled back in the day, with magic, ships, dragons and men, many men!"

"_Alfred, just put me on speaker, Arthur might want to hear about his country too." _Alfred shrugged but did as instructed. "_Now, I'm quite confused, how are you still standing and talking, Arthur Kirkland, sir? By the looks of your country, you should be in a coma, at the very least!"_

Arthur smirked, "That, my friend, is a secret. Now, I do have a plan to be able to save the country. It's simple, to break the country from its magical curse, we need to defeat and kill Sycorax, the one who caused all this mess."

"_Wait, this whole mess was caused by a single person?"_

"Not a person… what was your name, again?"

"_It's Matthew, Matthew Williams. Personification of Canada." _

Arthur hadn't heard of that place either, but he didn't mention it to the lad. "Matthew, she isn't simply a person, she's a witch and a powerful one at that. She has the power of dragons inside of her and she's using it against the country that despised her kind a long time ago. We have to stop her and the only way to do it is to ask some dragons for some help."

There was silence on the other end for a while, before a cough was heard; "_Uh… okay. How do you plan on doing that?"_

"Simple, we ride on my unicorn to Snowdonia to find the Red Dragon of Wales, then north to find the Loch Ness Monster and finally across the Irish Sea to Northern Ireland to ask the Green Gaelic Dragon of Ireland before we go to fight Sycorax with our efforts combined!"

Alfred looked at King Kirkland, shocked; "Hey, this is news to me! What the fuck, man? I mean, sure riding a unicorn would be cool and all, but seriously? Dragons! They're dragons!"

Britain raised an oversized eyebrow, "Yes, and?"

"… They're dragons!"

"Yes, Alfred, they're dragons. What concerns you?"

"Fucking dragons!"

Arthur simply shook his head. "_Alfred has a point, Arthur, sir." _Shutting up, the pair of nations looked back at the mobile in America's hand. "_Not to seem ignorant, but I've never seen a dragon before. I assumed they didn't exist. How are you going to convince it to fight with you, let alone not get burned to toast?"_

"We'll get to that point when it becomes important. Now, is there any way to get to Snowdonia without going near lava, as you claimed was around Wales?"

The sound of keys tapping could be heard on a keyboard, before there was a sigh. "_No, there is no way unless you can fly or walk through lava." _That was a problem, Arthur knew.

There was silence for a while as Arthur and Alfred contemplated with the problem they had. With a shake of his head, Kirkland broke it. "We continue onwards to find the Red Dragon. We can't do it without him. We'll figure out how to get around the lava along the way."

Matthew thought differently. "_But sir! It's impossible, not even a nation could survive that!"_

"We'll figure it out when we get there. Nothing is impossible with magic." With that, Arthur turned and walked off and soon disappeared in the darkness of night. America could still hear the noise his shoes made on the tarmac and was relieved when he heard it ended without Arthur going on the sand.

"Sorry Mattie, I've gotta go, the cells dying. I'll come back soon, promise!" He hung up before Matthew could get a word in edgeways. He turned to see that King Arthur had already built another fire (he didn't want to know how he got wood from tarmac, of all things) and he walked over, dropping himself onto his butt once he got close enough. With a few deserts in his own country, he knew that the deserts grew cold in the night.

"So… three dragons, not one?" Arthur knew that America wouldn't have forgotten. He had neglected to let him know it was numerous dragons, not a single one.

"Yes, that's correct."

"I remember you saying there was only one, not three."

Arthur looked at Alfred and smiled slightly, "Would you have agreed to help me if you knew what the full details were?"

USA tried to look insulted, but he knew Arthur had a point. For his country, he had to do the right thing. Plus, Alfred was a hero, he wouldn't have turned away either way and he was glad that the Brit told him before they actually ran into the dragons. "Maybe." That was his answer.

Britain shook his head with a smile. "Whatever you say. You should get some sleep, we move at dawn." He told the American before he lied down on the cushions he must've made with magic without Alfred noticing and closed his eyes. Before he fell fully asleep, however, Kirkland clapped his hands twice and Jones watched in amazement as cushions rose from the tarmac right below him for his own bed.

Alfred looked towards the king and smiled a little. "Thanks, dude." It was better than sleeping on the tarmac, that much was for sure. Yawning, he stretched out on the cushions, turned to the side and fell to sleep with the dreams of the result of him saving Britain as the true hero he was.

…

It took another few days before they reached nearby Wrexham, just inside the Welsh boarders, the sign saying 'Croeso Cymru (5) Welcome' to which had King Arthur smiling.

"Welcome, lad, to the country of Wales."

For the moment, Alfred could only see sand that slowly broke into dark mud. Jones wasn't sure what substance the mud was, but he could guess that it was ash, according to the smell in the air. Smoke rose in the distance and there were faint sounds of types of explosions that Alfred only remembered hearing when he visited Hawaii.

"Mattie was right; this place has turned into a volcano wasteland." Alfred breathed out, knowing that if Wales was in this state, then Scotland was slowly drowning, whilst Northern Ireland was falling apart, piece by piece.

"So it seems… this is going to be difficult if what… Canada says is right." Arthur had to question whether or not he got the name right. That boy just had that effect; people just didn't notice him for some reason or other.

"What're we gonna do, Artie?" It must've been troubling enough for Kirkland to have ignored the pet name America gave him that time. Arthur, however, was stumped. There was no way either of them would be able to get near Snowdonia where he was sure the Welsh Dragon resided. That meant looking for local wildlife. Perhaps a Basilisk, but he sure didn't trust snakes, even if he could talk to them. A phoenix would be a lovely ride, but most were found inside lava and it was impossible to reach near a phoenix nest without short of flying. What else was there?

Without warning, Arthur's horse began neighing nervously, catching his attention. "Hey beauty, what's wrong?" There was something close by, that much Kirkland was sure of. He wasn't sure what, but he knew something was coming. Turning to look at Jones, he noticed that his horse was acting nervously too. "Be careful, America, something has upset the horses."

Alfred seemed to gulp, but he looked around, pushing Texas up his nose. Reaching inside his jacket to his shirt pocket, he brought out a gun that had been enchanted by King Kirkland a few days ago. How he hadn't thought to use it on the shark was beyond him, but he was a bit preoccupied at the time.

Nothing happened for many minutes.

Then, without warning, a buff of blue fire burst to life right in front of the faces of both America and Britain, panicking both human and horse alike. The horses bucked their riders off and fled back into the desert, leaving both nations to fall on the floor, hard.

Then there was laughter. Canine like laughter, similar to the laugh of a hyena. Arthur knew what was going on. Blue fire, fox fire. It was no secret that foxes were cunning animals, using tricks and thievery to survive. This was one of those times, only this was more entertainment rather than defending themselves.

A Kitsune, a fox of nine tails holding the power of fox fire. Not always dangerous, unless you decided to piss it off.

"Goddamn Kitsunes!" Kirkland cursed. He didn't have time for games and entertainment. Then a light bulb went up. Of course! Kitsunes are a creature of fire! A Kitsune could get them across towards Snowdonia! If only they could bargain with it… most Kitsunes were selfish and childish and would rarely help unless they got enjoyment or something back for the effort.

"Holy shit, it's a giant fox with nine tails! I thought only Miles Prowler (6) had multiple tails!" Alfred panicked slightly, getting up on his feet quickly and backing away, holding a gun up to the fox. The fox didn't seem that bothered, that was until it sniffed it. Then it growled, raised all its nine tails' and its fur pricked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, dusting himself of the ash from the ground and glared at the Kitsune. "You, Kitsune, I wouldn't growl at him if I were you."

The fox turned its head towards King Arthur, glaring defiantly. "Why shouldn't I?" the voice of the Kitsune was distinctly female, though it echoed slightly with the power of this particular Kitsune. It was stronger than Arthur expected, but still nothing too worrisome for him.

Kirkland smirked. "You realise who I am, correct? My scent tells you everything. Must I explain?"

The Kitsune raised its head slightly, the tails dropping only slightly and its right ear cocked back. "Is it truly? I remember hearing; these souls tell me you were killed. Magic or not, the dead do not come back to life."

"Not killed, merely hibernating. I have awoken, as has the rest of the life Camelot had gone through, the kingdom and country and island. Surely, you remember?"

The Kitsune didn't answer for a moment, before it dropped its tails completely and its ears fell back as it turned and bowed to Arthur Kirkland. Alfred was stunned. Was the king really that powerful that even a giant fox with fire tails would bow to him? What made him as powerful as they say?

"I apologise, Your Highness. I didn't believe the rumours to be true."

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Rumours?"

The fox stood up again, calm as can be as it nodded. "Correct. Rumours of the spirits have been floating from the desert, of a King of England riding towards the Volcano of Don in search of the _Ddraig Coch. _I wasn't sure whether to believe them, given the state of the country, Your Highness. But I see; the spirits didn't lie."

Alfred had little idea of what the giant fox thing was talking about. "Yo, 'scuse me!" He called, not liking being ignored, considering he was the most powerful country in the world right now. The Kitsune turned to him with a bothered look. "Yeah, um, confused nation over here. What the fuck are you on?"

The Kitsune shook its head. "I speak only the truth, the spirits mentioned another male was travelling with you, but I don't recognise him. Who are you?"

Alfred grinned, knowing this was his time to shine. He fisted his hand, a single thumb raised and leaving his pearly white teeth to show off his magnificence. "Names Alfred F Jones, personification of the United States of America. And I'm the hero!"

"Never heard of it." The words cut Jones worse than that blue fire did as his ego once again drained and soaked into the ash floor. How had these creatures never heard of America, the greatest country in the world? It was blasphemy!

Picking Texas back up from its almost fatal fall, Alfred coughed. "Well… yeah, Artie here said the same thing…"

"It's Arthur, goddamnit!" But this shout of annoyance wasn't heard as the Kitsune let out a bellow of a laugh.

"Artie! King Artie!" It took a while for the Kitsune to recover from the laughter. Arthur wasn't pleased. He should've guessed that a creature of tricks and pranks would get along with the aloof nation such as America. Bollocks. "I like this boy! He can joke and he doesn't seem to hold fear by your anger… Your Highness."

Arthur simply grumbled, not pleased that Alfred happened to have to make friends with a Kitsune, of all things. "Yes, you don't have to deal with it."

"Beg your pardon, Your Highness, but he has helped you along the way, if the spirits are to be trusted." It was true, the fox was right about Alfred helping him. He wouldn't have figured many items that could help them on their journey if it wasn't for Alfred. The world had changed a lot since Arthur had been alive and it was a scary thing. He tried not to let it get to him, however.

"Hey, by the way fox dude… or dudette, whatever. Anyway, we need a lift or something. Surprisingly, me and Artie can't walk over lava, so we were wondering, any ideas how to walk on lava or something?"

The Kitsune blinked, before it smiled. "I do, in fact! For I am a creature of fire, so I shall have no problem walking over fire and lava if it comes from the Volcano of Don. However, I won't be much help in a fight against a dragon, Your Highness. Because of Alfred's joke, I can give you both a ride for free. It was a good name for Your Highness; the other creatures would be dying to hear!"

"Oh buggering hell… just don't tell the snakes!" Kirkland snapped.

The Kitsune smirked. "Never, sire. You know how much I care about snakes. We and snakes do not get along." The Kitsune turned and lowered slightly to give Arthur and Alfred a good position to get on its back. "Hold on tight, for it shall be a bumpy ride."

Both Kirkland and Jones got on the back of the supposedly mythical beast and held on tightly to the furry back as the Kitsune charged off into the smoky landscape.

"Hey, Artie?"

Arthur groaned, hearing that America had more questions he wanted answering. "What America?"

"What is this thing we're riding?"

What a stupid question, then again USA did ask stupid questions. Kirkland sighed. "Very well. It is a Kitsune, a fox with several tails that has control over the power of fox fire, basically blue flames from the spirit world. Most Kitsunes aren't dangerous and are basically like their cousins, the regular fox, shy but cunning and work mainly with thievery and sometimes practical jokes. Some say they have contact with the spirit world, which of course this Kitsune can confirm, and it is said that if you pull the tail of a Kitsune, you will die a painful death."

"Wait, from just pulling its tail?"

"Well, yes. A Kitsune's tail holds the power of the spirit world. Not all Kitsunes have nine tails; most Kitsunes have numerous tails depending on its age. This one is quite old as nine is the most I've ever seen on a Kitsune, though I've heard rumours about a Kitsune with a dozen tails. Kitsunes are willing to bargain or even offer help if you're the right kind of person with the right kind of deal, but Kitsunes rarely get into fights and prefer to flee than battle."

"Doesn't this Kitsune have a name?"

Arthur was about to answer, but stopped quickly. Some mythical creatures did, indeed, name themselves or their kids. Kirkland wasn't sure but was saved from answering when the Kitsune did. "Nay, I have no name, sire."

Alfred smiled; "Well, then I dub thee Tails!"

Arthur facepalmed. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

><p>I feel Arthur's pain. I'd throw myself off that damn fox if it weren't for Britain counting on him to save the country.<p>

Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it'll do. Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter; DRAGONS.

Footnotes~

(1) This is a true nickname to the Welsh. There is a higher population of Sheep than there are people in Wales, for every person in Wales, there is 1.5 a sheep. Nearly double more sheep than people, hence the nickname Sheep Shagger. Not sure why Austrailia doesn't get that reputation too, though.

(2) Translates from Welsh; Red Dragon.

(3) Gay in the old days meant dressing colourfully, in this sense. Homosexuality in the time of Arthur Pendragon probably got you shot or an axe to the face, for the church held pretty much all power in those days and continued to do so for another thousand years.

(4) Cell phone is an Americanism for Mobile Phone. Mobile phone is the British term and often shortened to mobile.

(5) Translates from Welsh; Welcome Wales.

(6) Miles Prowler is the actual full name of the character Tails from Sonic the Hedgehog. Because his parents died and he hated the name Miles, Sonic gave Tails the name he uses today.


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